Because of Stephen (4 page)

Then with a feeling of contentment she lay down wrapped in the gray blankets, and was almost immediately asleep.

"Is she there?" asked the wind, whispering softly.

"Yes, asleep," said a moonbeam peeping
through a crack between the logs, and then stealing in across the window-ledge.

"And will she stay?" sighed the night wind again.

"Yes, she has come to stay," affirmed the moonbeams, "and she will be a blessing."

Out in the sweet-scented hay
lay
Philip, but he was not asleep. There was planning to be done for tomorrow. Would the guest choose to stay, or would she
fly from them at the morn
ing light? Could she stand it there, so rough and dev
oid of all that had made her
life
what it was?
Of course not.
She had come only on a tour of curiosity. She would probably give it up and go back reasonably in a few days.
But in
the meantime, unless she came to her senses by morning and knew enough to go back to civilization at once, what was to be done?

In the first place, there must be a woman of some sort found, a servant, if you please. A chaperone she
would be called
back in the East. Here p
erhaps such things were not nec
essary, especially as she was really Stephen's sister; but it would be better to have a woman around. She must not be allowed to do the cooking, and
surely
they could not cook for her. It had been bad enough for them, men as they were, to eat what they cooked. How
good that s
upper had tasted! The omelet re
minded him of his mother, and he drew his hand quickly across his eyes. What would his mother think of his staying out here in the wilds so long?
And
all because a pretty girl had chosen to flirt with him for a while and then throw him aside.
But
was it all that? Did he not stay for Stephen's sake? What would become of Stephen without him?

But
perhaps, now, Stephen's sister had brought him a release. He might just pretend to have business calling him away and leave them together. Then a vision of the frightened hands that came through the mist to greet him at the station recalled him sharply. No! He could not leave
her alone with her brother! It would not do.
And
at once he knew that his mother, if she were able to know of what went on in this life, would approve of his staying here.

But
where was a woman to be found who would be a fit servant for Miss Halstead?

He searched the country in his mind all round and
abou
t,
and at last came to a conclu
sion.

The hay settled and crackl
ed about him, and the hens near
by clucked anxiously in their sleep; the horses moved against the stall now
and then, and away in the distance came the sharp, vigilant bark of a dog. Philip dropped asleep for a little while,
and dreamed
of a small hand clinging to his neck and a wisp of soft, sweet hair blowing across his face, and awoke to find the hay hanging over and touching his cheek and a warm ray of morning lighting the sky.

The morning was all cool and fresh with sleep yet, wh
en he rose and rode away, hurry
ing his horse onward through the dewy way. He found himself wondering what
Stephen's sister would say
to this or that view or bit of woodland that he passed, and then checked his thoughts angrily. She was nothing to him, even if she had understood his thoughts about the moon. Women were
all alike
, heartless— unless it might be mothers. With these
thoughts
he flung his horse's bridle over the saddle-horn, and sprang down at the door of a rude dwelling, where after much ado he brought to the door a dark-faced woman with straggling black hair.

What a
rguments he used or what induce
ments he offered to bring the curious creature to promise she would come, he never told.
But
when a half-hour later, with the additional burden of a large, greasy-looking bundle fastened to his saddle, he again started homeward, he smiled faintly to himself, and wondered why he had done it. Perhaps, after all, by this time their guest had
made preparations
for her departure.
And
this wild woman with her lowering looks and her muttering speech, would she be any addition to their already curiously assorted family?

A fierce rebellion, often there before, arose in his breast at the Power, whether God or
what, that
made and kept going a universe so filled with lives awry and hearts of bitterness and sorrow.
Not even the breath of the morn
ing, nor the rich notes of wild birds, could quite dispel this from his heart. A sky like that above him, so peerless, and earth like this around him, so matchless, and only lives like his and Stephen's and that dark-faced old hag's to enjoy them. He ran over the
whole
rough crew of friends who sometimes congregated with them, and saw no good in any.

Still, there was Margaret Halstead. She seemed a fitting one to place amid beauty and joyous surroundings. She would not mar a scene like that this morning with anything her heart or life contained.

Yes, there was Margaret.
But
it might be only seeming. Perhaps she was like them all.
Doubtless she was. It remained to
be seen
what Margaret really was.
But
what were they all made for, anyway?

The old question had troubled Philip for a long, lonely time; and he drew his brows in an unhappy frown as he came to a halt at the only home he now owned.

When
Margaret Halstead came to the door a little later to view the morning and look by daylight upon the new land into which she had
come
a stranger and a pilgrim, she still carried with
her the atmosphere of her East
ern home.
She had changed the long, dark, close-fitting
travelling-gown of the night be
fore to a simple gown of light percale which she had wisely brought in her hand-baggage; and, though the garment was plain and of walking len
gth, and must have occupied littl
e space in the satchel, it hung with a grace and finish unknown in those parts; and there was still about
her as she moved that soft atmo
sphere of refinement.

She opened the door wide, and stood for a moment
enframed
. The dark, big-boned
creature
who
was huddled on the steps sprang up and gazed at her in wonder. Her eyes had never met a sight like this before. The golden hair, touched with the sunshine into finer threads of spun glass, the blue eyes like rare stones that hold the colors of a summer night, the fair face, the pleasant mouth, the graceful form in the soft blue cotton gown, made a picture for which an angel might have sat.

Margar
et looked at the woman in amaze
ment, and then at the dirty bundle that lay upon the steps at her feet.

"Who are you?" she asked after a moment of silent scrutiny between the two.

"Man come get. Say heap work. Man
say
big pay"

"O, my brother has been after you. I see. He brought you here this morning before I was awake. That was kind of him. And I thought he was asleep yet."

She was t
hinking aloud rather than speak
ing to the woman. Philip, coming around the corner of the house,
heard
and halted, and his lips settled sternly. A curious expression crossed his face, and then he turned and went back to the other side of the house without
being seen
. Let her suppose this was the work
of her brother if she would. It ought to have been. It was as well she should think so.

But
Marga
ret was grappling with the prob
lem of breakfast, with the addition of this unknown quantity who had come to assist her. Would it be possible for those grimy, greasy hands ever to be clean enough to touch food that was to
be eaten
by them?

She hit upon the plan, however, of setting the new
comer at some much-needed scrub
bing about the doors and windows until they should have breakfast out of the way, and she drew a sigh of relief as she looked about the one
living-room
and noted how large it was. The woman would not have to be in too close proximity to them while they ate. That was one thing to be thankful
for
.

She smiled to herself as she hastily laid the table. It was nice of Stephen to go out so early in the morning and get a woman to help. It was dear of Stephen! He was going to justify her utmost ideal of him, she felt sure.

They all felt a strain of embarrassment over them during b
reakfast. The morning light dis
played the cr
udities of the rude home. Marga
ret's beauty showed in stronger contrast as she moved about in her dainty blue and white, and seemed some rare bird of paradise dropped
into their midst. The two young men in their dark flannel shirts felt ill at ease. They were all facing the problem of what was to
be done
next.

Margaret felt that the crucial moment for the desire of her heart was coming, and she must walk carefully. She
realized,
more than did they, the changes it would make in their lives if she remained here as she wished. As for her companions,
it seemed to them by the light of morning wisdom an impossibility that she should stay,
and they discovered to their own surprise
that there was a growing disap
pointment in their hearts. She had given them a peep into their former lives, and they would turn from it now the more reluctantly.

At
last
Margaret ventured.

"I don't intend to be a bit of bother when I get settled," she said brightly, "and I will be as patient now as can be; but I would like to know when you think it will be possible for my things to be brought up."

The silence grew impressive. Stephen looked at Philip, and Philip looked into his plate. Margaret watched them anxiously from the corners of her eyes. At last Philip spoke.

"How many things are there?" he asked, merely to make time and give Stephen a
chance to tell her what he knew he ought to tell, that this was no place for her to stay.

Margaret would rather her brother had taken the initiative. It was awkward to have to ask favors of a stranger. She wondered how much of a partner he was anyway, and what right he had in the house. Could it be possible that he was part owner? If so, it was more complicated than she had expected.

"O, I'm afraid there are a good many," she answered humbly. "You see I had to bring them or sell them. There
wasn't
any good place in town to store them where I felt sure they would be safe. It is just a little country town, you know.
And
some of the things I love. They belonged to my old home. I thought Stephen would like having them about him again, too." She glanced wistfully over at her brother. These old things had been part o
f the ammu
nition she had brought with which to fight her battle for the winning of her brother.

"Of course!"said
Philip brusquely,
scowling across at Ste
phen. He was disgusted with Ste
phen for not being more brotherly.

"And there's my piano!" said Margaret, brightening at this slight encouragement. "I couldn't leave that!"

"Certainly not!" said Philip, looking about
at the rough room in a growing wonder of what was coming to it.
The impossibility of it all!
A piano in the wilderness!

"Great Scott!" ejaculated Stephen, looking up at last, and struggling to express his feelings. "What did you do it for
? "
You
can't
put a piano and things in here! Think of a piano in this barn!" and he waved his hands eloquently toward the silent, dejected walls.

"O we'll make something besides a barn of it, Stephen," said Margaret, laughing almost hysterically, she was so glad he had spoken at last, even if it was only to attempt a veto to her plans. "I thought it all out this morning when I woke up.
This room is lovely
,
it is so large
. It needs a few more windows, perhaps, and a fireplace to make it perfect; but unless you are very much att
ached to this
primitive
simplic
ity you won't know this place after I get it fixed. Just wait
till
my materials come, and we'll have a real home here.
Couldn't
you boys build a fireplace, the old-fashioned kind, with a wide chimney in the room?
Isn't
there any rough stone around here? It would be grand to sit around winter evenings while I read aloud to you, or we all sing. It ought to go right over there!" and she indicated a space
between two windows rather far apart, and directly opposite the front door.

"No doubt!" said Philip, looking blankly at the woode
n box that now occupied that po
sition and trying to imagine a great stone fireplace in its stead. His fancy failed him, however. He could not see an angel in a bit of rough marble.
But
the picture of the reading aloud aro
und the open fire on winter eve
nings, and the music, was alluring.

"Charming," he added, seeing that the weight of the answers all fell upon him. "I never built stone chimneys for a living, but I think I could assist if you would be so good as to direct the job, Miss Halstead. I can't bring my mind to comprehend anything in this room being lovely, but if you say so I suppose it is possible."

"Great Scott!" ejaculated Stephen again in amazement. He was not certain whether Philip was in earnest or not.

"And the piano ought to stand there," said Margaret after the laugh had subsided.

"Certainly," answered Philip again, more amazed than ever. "But might I inquire what you would do with the stove? You
couldn't
cook on the piano, could you? Or would you expect to use the fireplace?"

The old woman peered in from t
he win
dow she was washing to see what all the laughter and shouts meant.
This seemed to be an exceedingly jolly household into which she had come.
She had not heard sounds so light-hearted and merry, so utterly free from the bitter mirth that tinged
most of the jollity in this region, in all her life, not since she was a little child and played among the
care-free
children.

"The stove," said
Margaret,
"must go into the kitchen, of course."

"Ah!" said Philip meekly. "Strange I didn't think of that. Now, where, might I inquire, is the kitchen?"

Margaret
arose and went to the back win
dow, and the two followed her. "It ought to be right here," she said, "and this window should be made into a door leading to it. What is that little square building out there? Can't we have that for a kitchen?"

"That ed
ifice, madam, was originally in
tended for other purposes, the housing of
cer¬tain
cattle or smaller animals, I forget just what. It
isn't
of much use for anything. It is in a
tumble-down
condition. But, if your fairy wand can transform it into a kitchen, so it shall be."

"Say, now that's an idea, Phil!" said Stephen interestedly.

"Then we could use a corner of this room for a dining-room, you know," said Margaret, turning back to the house again. "I have a pretty little cupboard with glass doors that will just fit into that corner, and there are screens and draperies. It will be just charmin
g.
I've
always wanted to fix up
a lovely big room that way. Can't you imagine the firelight playing over the table-cloth and dishes?"

"We haven't seen a table-cloth in so long I'm
afraid
it would be a strain on our minds to try to do that," said Stephen bitterly. All this talk was alluring, but wholly impossible. Such things could never come into his life. He had long ago given over expecting them. A look of hopeless longing went across his face, and Philip saw and wondered. He had felt that way himself, but somehow it had never seemed to him that his comrade would understand such feelings, he seemed so happy-go-lucky always.

"But w
hat would you do with the rough
ness of everything?" asked Philip doubtfully. "Pianos and corner cupboards wouldn't like to associate with forests of splinters."

"O, cover them," said Margaret easily, as if she had settled that long ago. "I brought a whole
bolt of burlap for such things. It is a lovely leaf-green, and will be just the thing for a background. I
don't
suppose I have enough;
but I can send a sample to New
York, and have it here before we need it.
I've
been thinking this morning what beautiful
molding
those smooth, dry corn-stalks would make tacked on next the ceiling. You see, when the walls are covered with something that makes a good background, this will look like a different place."

""You see, Steve, that's
what's the matter with you and me
.
We've never had a suitable back
ground," said Philip slowly.

And thus
it was that, amid laughing and questioning, Margaret won her way, and finally saw Philip go off with two horses and a large wagon. She was much troubled that Stephen had not gone with him. It seemed so strange when he was her brother, and Philip would need help, surely, in loading up the furniture. Philip certainly was a queer man. Why did he presume to dictate to Stephen, and, strangest of all, why did Stephen sulkily submit? When she knew her brother better, she would find out, and spur him on to act independently.
Again
she wondered uneasily whether Philip was not a hindrance to her plans. A man who
could so easily command her brother was one whose influence was to
be feared
.

So
Stephen
stayed behind, followed his sis
ter about, and did what she asked him to do. In the course of the morning much scrubbing and putting to rights
was done
, and a savory dinner was under way in spite of the marked absence of needed culinary utensils.